


Me and You and You and Me (So Happy Together)

by nirejseki



Series: So Happy Together [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheerful, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:56:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8256749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki
Summary: In which Barry's life is awesome.For the prompt: Barry and Mick get together (one night stand? Actual dating?) before Barry becomes the Flash. How does that change things?





	

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of fantastic fics in the Flash fandom that change up the time people met with a whole variety of ships, leading to glorious amounts of angst and miscommunication and interpersonal drama when lightning strikes and everything changes. Everyone should go read those fics.
> 
> This is not one of those fics.

Barry’s maybe a bit nervous about this whole “going out to a gay club” thing. It’s one thing to confess to Iris that you maybe-sorta-kinda-actually-more-like-totally-definitely are bisexual; it’s rather another thing to go out, by yourself, to a gay club with the specific intention of getting laid with the hottest guy who’s willing take you home. 

It’s not that Barry doesn’t like clubs, it’s just…well, he’s always seen himself as more the romantic type, you know? He’s been in hopeless unrequited love with Iris since he was like ten, he dated two girls in high school, made out with one boy (ended up being a bad idea, but that was because Tony was a closeted asshole, not because the concept itself was wrong), and he’s dated at least four people since he got to college. Each relationship was a _relationship_ – okay, that maybe the thing with Denise only lasted about a month, but that was because Denise was a hurricane in human form who asked Barry out, monopolized his time for a month, and then dumped him because she “needed variety”, but Barry was actually totally okay with that because both his friends and his grades were starting to notice that he had totally ditched them for a month solid. Either way: _relationship_. Not casual. You meet someone, you like someone, you ask them out or they ask you out, you go on a few dates, it goes well, things progress, and then it goes well until someone feels like you’ve started drifting apart, at which point you break up, either amicably or horribly, depending on how people are feeling.

But tonight, Barry’s just looking to get laid.

He’s been dancing for a few hours and gotten some interested looks (and a few offers to go do ‘something’ in the bathroom, which Barry declined because he’s looking to spend a whole night with somebody, not fifteen minutes), and that’s when _he_ showed up.

He being the hottest goddamn guy in the club, and quite possibly Central City. He’s as tall as Barry, but his shoulders are broad and wide, with big muscled arms and a trim waist with just a hint of softness. He’s wearing faded tan cargo pants that ride low on his hips, a white tank and a soft green jacket, and he walks like he knows what he’s doing, heading straight for the bar with a smirk. 

Barry drifts over. “Um, hi,” he says. He has no idea how to start this conversation.

The guy looks at Barry, small smirk on his face, and he looks Barry right up and down, making sure to take in every last detail of the tight jeans Barry’s wearing, the even tighter shirt. Barry shivers a little in anticipation. This guy’s intense. 

“Yeah, you’ll do,” the guy says, leaning forward and wrapping a hand around Barry’s hip. He telegraphs the motion clearly, giving Barry every opportunity to walk away, which Barry appreciates and is totally uninterested in. 

“I’ll do?” Barry squeaks.

“You’re here to get some, ain’t ya?” the guy says with a smirk. “Me, too. What’s your name?”

“Barry.”

“And I’m Mick. Wanna have a drink and get out of here?”

Well, _that_ was easy enough.

“Where to?” Barry says, because _hell yes_ , he's got game.

Mick smirks. “How ‘bout you pick, huh? There’s at least three hotels within walking distance that take same-day deposits.” He turns to the bartender and bangs his hand against the bar. “Hey, bartender! One of whatever Barry here’s pick is, and come over here when you make it, will you?”

Barry nods approvingly. He’s training to be a CSI, reading up in his spare time and taking whatever classes he can that relate to it, which include not only biology and chemistry but also psych and gender studies. Mick’s clearly got some experience with one night stands, and he’s considerate, too: letting Barry pick the place they go, making sure the bartender made their drinks in front of both of them so Barry can see they’re not altered, keeping his movements clear and always making sure Barry has a clear line of exit. 

“You do this a lot?” Barry asks Mick after telling the bartender what he wants to order. “You’re good at it.”

Mick laughs. “Not as much as you’d think,” he says. “I’ve got a long-time partner who’s a paranoid bastard; you learn to adjust.” Catching Barry’s expression, Mick adds, “We’re open, and he’s on vacation. Wanna see?”

Barry blinks. “See – what?”

Mick pulls out his phone and clicks a few buttons before offering it over, smirk widening.

Barry takes it and laughs when he sees the message: “Not getting back till next Friday. Go get laid – I don’t appreciate the Calvin and Hobbes routine you do when it’s been this long. If hot, send proof.” 

“He seems pretty bossy,” Barry says, grinning. 

Mick smirks in return. “Now come take a picture with me, pretty boy,” Mick purrs, his voice dropping a register. “You saw my orders. Gotta have proof, or he’ll never believe me.”

Barry licks abruptly dry lips. “Yeah,” he says. “Let’s take a picture.”

Mick pulls Barry into his lap and Barry can’t resist grinding down a bit. He can feel Mick hard in his pants beneath him and Mick leans forward, kissing Barry’s neck and wrapping his arms around him.

Barry snaps a picture.

“Hey, lovebirds!” the bartender snaps. “Go get a room.”

“Good idea,” Mick rumbles. 

\-----------------------

Barry ends up texting Mick again a few days later, because midterms are starting to stress him out and, well, the sex was really good. There’s no harm in checking, right?

Mick turns out to be free.

He’s also free two days after that, which is good because Barry just passed one of his hardest exams. And the evening after that because, well…

Yeah, no, Barry’s got no excuse for that one. 

Mick’s really hot, okay?

They’re curled up, sticky and satisfied. Mick’s a fantastic cuddler; he’s like a space heater and an octopus all wrapped up in one, and he doesn’t have any macho bullshit about needing to crawl out of bed as soon as everybody’s had an orgasm. Sometimes he sticks around for hours, and they just…talk. It’s nice. It’s nicer than some of the people Barry _has_ dated. Mick is incredibly low-stress, practical and just a little bit mischievous, and though he talks about having a temper, Barry’s never seen him really lose it.

It kinda sucks that Mick’s just a hook-up, actually.

Today, though, after a while, Mick yawns and stretches. “You know, this has been lots of fun,” he says.

Barry winces a bit, because that sounds like the start of a “so we’re supposed to be causal and this is getting too much” speech. Just when he’d been thinking about how good a boyfriend Mick would be, too.

“Hey, no,” Mick says, catching Barry’s expression. “If you’re not interested, you don’t gotta do anything you ain’t comfortable with, let me make that clear up front.”

Barry blinks. That does _not_ sound like the start of a break-up speech. “What were you going to say, then?” he asks.

“Just that this is lots of fun, and I wouldn’t mind _continuing_ to have fun if you’re willing,” Mick says. Barry pointedly looks at the bed around them. His willingness is not in doubt. Is Mick asking him out on a date? “Yeah, yeah,” Mick says, smirking for a moment before it quickly fades. “But there’s a catch.”

“Isn’t there always?” Barry says, flopping back on the pillow. “What is it?”

“I like you plenty, but if we’re gonna be long term, you gotta be cool with Lenny, too,” Mick says, and Barry abruptly remembers that first night – the text from the partner going to be back on Friday, which is _tomorrow_ – 

“Oh,” he says. “Wait. You mean cool like, cool with me sleeping with you, or cool as in…um…”

Mick smirks. “I mean both, but since we’re on the subject, how _do_ you feel about threesomes?”

“Positively?” Barry squeaks. He’s never been anywhere _near_ the vicinity of a threesome, but the idea sounds pretty good to him.

“First you have to meet Lenny and see if you click,” Mick warns. “He’s pretty picky.”

“Sure,” Barry says, thoughts of threesomes dancing in his head, and that’s why Barry is now sitting at a little café down on Lucas Drive, wondering how this became his life. 

Like, he’s still excited and everything, but now that he isn’t overcome by Mick’s hotness, he’s starting to wonder if getting between an established couple is a good idea. Even if Mick did say they were open, how does _Barry_ feel about hooking up with a couple? Especially given his weird almost-might-be-feelings about Mick?

Not that Mick was asking about commitment, necessarily. Which is good, because yow, the guy who just walked up to the counter is _gorgeous_ , and if Barry was dating someone (someones?) he’d have to feel bad about thinking that. Legs that go on for ages, trim little waist curving up into broad shoulders, close-cut salt-and-pepper hair, that _face_ …ugh, why are people so pretty?

The guy gets his drink and looks around the café, then he strolls straight in Barry’s direction.

Shit, shit, shit! Barry is here to meet Mick and the mysterious “Lenny”, who should be arriving any minute; he can’t afford to be drooling over some random stranger!

“You Barry Allen?” the pretty guy asks. He’s taller than he seems on first glance, about Barry’s height or a little shorter, and – wait, how does he know Barry’s name? Barry feels like he would have noticed if he was in the same class as this guy.

“Yes?” Barry asks, blinking at him. “Do I know you?”

“Nah,” the guy says, and pulls out a chair. “But Mick send me your picture. He’s gonna be running late; got held up with a little something. I’m Len.”

Holy. _Crap_.

Barry is going home to Iris and gloating for _hours_ if this goes through.

Len smirks like he knows what Barry’s thinking, and his eyes crinkle just a little around the edges and –

\---------------------------------

“So you’re now semi-seriously dating not one, but _two_ smoking hot older men?” Iris says, crossing her arms. “Barry Allen, you selfish little jerk. Haven’t you ever learned about sharing?”

“Look at this picture, Iris,” Barry says, holding out his cellphone proudly. “ _Look at it_.”

“It’s not _fair_ ,” Iris whines. “Not fair, not fair, not _fair_. Shouldn’t I be allowed to have one? I like blue-eyes.”

“They’re a package deal,” Barry says, grinning. “Also, I’ve got dibs.”

“I could share,” Iris muses. “I could totally share. Are they bi? I could be flexible.”

“Early bird gets the worm,” Barry says, smirking.

“Hot twink gets the sugar daddies,” Iris shoots back. “What do they do, anyway?”

“No idea,” Barry says with a shrug. “They’re out of town a lot on business anyway, so it’s going to be more of a sporadic thing anyway.”

“Maybe they’ll fly you out to their fancy apartments in other cities and wine and dine you there,” Iris says.

“Maybe you should stop reading so many romance novels,” Barry says. 

“You should ask them,” Iris says.

“I am not asking them,” Barry says.

One short, futile struggle for Barry’s cell phone later, Iris is sitting on top of Barry and typing into his phone as he begs for mercy.

Joe opens the door, takes one look at the two of them, sighs, and closes the door again.

“Is dinner ready?” Iris yells after him.

“No, because neither of you _live here anymore_ ,” Joe bellows back. “Go eat your own dinners, freeloaders!”

“So you’re going out to dinner? Is it Vanessa again?”

“Yes, I’m going out and it’s none of your business!”

“It’s totally Vanessa again,” Barry says from where he’s smushed under Iris. “She’s nice; I hope they keep dating.”

“Yeah, same,” Iris says. “There!”

“Oh, god, what did you text them?”

“Nothing bad! I just asked if they were willing to fly you out in style somewhere fancy when they’re out on business sometime.”

“I cannot _believe_ you,” Barry says. “Let me up so I can do damage control.”

“Wait, wait, they texted back! Ohmigod, Len says _he’ll have to see about the private jet_! Oh my _god_ , Barry!”

“He’s _joking_ , Iris!” Barry exclaims. “Seriously. I’ve told you about the guy’s sense of humor. He’s totally joking. What’s the likelihood that someone _I’m_ dating can get his hands on a private jet anyhow?”

Three days later, he and Iris are standing in the small private airfield, staring at the shiny plane getting refueled. Iris is bouncing up and down and barely suppressing her squealing.

Barry, on the other hand, is somewhat more concerned.

“What do you do?” he asks Mick, who blinks owlishly at him and tries to hide a yawn. Barry had kept him up pretty late last night. “No, seriously. Do you work at a big bank? A hedge fund? Wall Street? _Government_?”

“Barry, not even the Russian government has planes this nice,” Iris says. “Tech company? Oil company?”

“Actually, we’re just criminals,” Len says, appearing from wherever he’d been. Even though he’d been up just as late as Mick and Barry, doing the same exact thing, he’s as fresh-looking as a goddamn daisy, but he’s also holding a tray with four coffees, so Barry’s inclined to forgive him.

“You’re not with the Families, are you?” Iris asks, accepting one of the coffees.

“Nah, we freelance. Mostly high end jewelry and art theft.”

Barry takes a sip of his coffee. It’s just how he likes it. “Well, as long as you’re not working for a hedge fund,” he says.

Iris punches him in the shoulder.

“What?! Did you _see_ what they did to the economy?”

“We could’ve been lawyers,” Mick offers.

“Okay,” Iris concedes. “That would’ve been worse.” She tries her own coffee. “Mmm. Okay. You guys know our dad’s a cop, right?”

Len shrugs. “Don’t tell him,” he advises.

“Wasn’t planning on ever bringing the whole threesome thing up ever anyway,” Barry says, because it’s true. Joe would flip. Joe still thinks Barry and Iris are going to end up together in solemn, monogamous, preferably non-sexual (except for three never-to-be-spoken-of encounters which will produce exactly three baby grandchildren after which both Iris and Barry will immediately take a vow of celibacy) bliss. 

“I’m willing to have my silence be bought in exchange for the name of the place that makes this coffee,” Iris says.

“Done,” Len says. “Shall we go? I’d like to get the plane back before anyone realizes I’ve borrowed it.”

“This is _even better_ than you guys being mysterious rich businessmen,” Iris says. “Can we go to New York?”

“Sure,” Mick says. “Lenny can lift us tickets to a show.”

It occurs to Barry that maybe he should complain or possibly resist, but – well, Iris seems to be cool with it. But then again, Iris always _was_ trouble, and ever since she’d taken that sociology of revolutions and criminal justice class, she’s been pretty gung-ho about trusting her moral instincts over what the law might say.

“You know I’m going to be a CSI, right?” he asks Mick anxiously. “Will that be a problem?”

“Nah,” Mick says, wrapping an arm around Barry’s shoulders. “No one’s caught Len unless he wanted to be caught in _years_. You’ll be fine.”

“I feel like this is going to be a disaster,” Barry says, then shrugs and snuggles in closer. “Can we go see Lion King?”

\-------------------------------

“Okay, so Captain Cold got away with the diamond, but by and large, I think it went well,” Cisco says. “You okay, Barry?”

“Yeah, sure,” Barry says, fixing a smile on his face. “All better, promise. Just tired.”

“Naturally,” Wells says, nodding. “You should go home and rest. We’ll see you tomorrow for some more testing.”

“Yep, bright and early,” Barry says, nodding, then heads home with a sigh.

That – wasn’t exactly how he was planning on meeting up with Len again, after nine months of being in a coma and three weeks of superheroism where none of neither Len nor Mick’s old numbers worked. Iris had lost track of them after the first month or so after Barry’s accident; they’d been upset and impulsive and something had gone wrong on one of their jobs, she says, but refused to share any additional details. 

Len would have been so into the whole superhero thing, too. He’s the one Barry ended up nerding out with while Mick teased them both; he would have thought superpowers were a blast.

Barry hadn’t expected his reaction to be quite so blast-the-superhero. 

Barry trudges into his apartment and flops down on the couch.

“Long day?” Len says sympathetically from the kitchen.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Barry groans. “It just went on and on and – _what the hell, Len_?! What are you doing here?!”

Len arches his eyebrows. “I’m not allowed to come visit my boyfriend?” he purrs. “I even brought you a glad-you-got-well present.”

Barry gapes. “Please, _please_ tell me the present isn’t the Kahndaq Dynasty diamond.”

Len tsks. “Barry, _really_ , you should know me better than that. Have I ever gotten you jewelry?”

Barry considers this. “Well – no.”

“You don’t even _like_ jewelry. You always said it felt weird to wear it.”

“I don’t think someone can _wear_ the Kahndaq Dynasty diamond.”

Len smirks. 

Something in the kitchen pings.

Barry thinks about what he knows about Len, and Mick, and who did cooking duties, and why. “Um, you didn’t cook me anything, did you?”

Len rolls his eyes. “I’m not _totally_ useless in the kitchen, I’ll have you know.”

“Um…”

“I’m heating up take-out pizza, Barry.”

“Oh thank god,” Barry says with relief. “It’s just that – well, to me, that conversation with Mick about the three-alarm fire that you set without him was actually pretty recent…”

“That was supposed to be a surprise cake for his birthday,” Len says, looking slightly disgruntled. “On the bright side, the good thing about being married to a pyro is that he’s just as happily surprised to come home to a giant fire as to a cake. But enough about us. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“You were in a coma for _nine months_ ,” Len enunciates. 

“No, really, I’m fine. Look! I got abs!” Barry pulls up his shirt.

Len strolls over and runs his finger down them. “And very nice abs they are indeed,” he says. “Side-effect of the speed powers, I guess?”

“Yeah, Cisco says it has something to do with muscle –” Barry pauses.

“You stopped vibrating your face after I hit you with the ice gun,” Len offers helpfully. “Your voice, too.”

Barry buries his head in his hands. “I _suck_ at this secret identity thing. I swear the only person who doesn’t know is _Iris_ , and –”

“Hold up, why doesn’t Iris know? Iris knows everything about you, even about us.”

“Joe said –”

“Since when do you listen to Joe about what to tell Iris and what not to?”

“But – she could be put in danger! Even more than she is writing that blog and putting her name on top of it!”

Len stares at Barry for a long moment.

“…what?”

“Iris West,” Len says. “Iris West, the girl who wanted me to sneak her into a mafia meeting so she could see if it was really like how it was in the Godfather. Iris West, the person who used to drag us all to art museums and critique my taste – _my_ taste, as an admitted art thief – and then asked to meet my local fence. Iris West, who got Mick _how many_ roman candles for his birthday – ”

Barry crosses his arms. “I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at. I know all of that.”

“Barry, Iris _likes_ danger,” Len says, not without sympathy. “If you don’t tell her, she will hunt you down and cut you into pieces once she does find out, and the longer you go without telling her, the worse it’ll be. Or did you think you could put that conversation off indefinitely?”

“I was thinking, just until –”

“Barry. You know you’re in the wrong here.”

“Ugh, _fine_ , maybe you have a point. I’ll tell her tomorrow, I guess.”

“Tonight would be better,” Len says. “Say, in about three minutes, thirteen seconds. Wouldn’t you say that’d be better?”

“…you know, that’s awfully specific.”

“Well,” Len says, ducking his head in that adorable yet entirely insincere manner he had when he was being _especially_ ironic. “It’s just an estimate.”

“An estimate of _what_ , Len?”

“It’s about twelve minutes’ drive from her place to here, but if you add in traffic and stoplights, that’ll make it about thirty four minutes from the time she would have gotten my text asking her why she didn’t tell me you were a superhero now.”

Barry stares at him. “You didn’t.”

“In fairness, it never occurred to me you wouldn’t tell her.”

“She’s going to kill me.”

“Very likely,” Len says cheerfully. “You might get a pass because of the coma, but probably not. Want the pizza and some ice cream?”

“Sounds like a perfectly acceptable last meal to me…though, speaking of meals, where’s Mick, anyway?”

Len’s face did something funny.

“Len? Where’s Mick?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Len says shortly.

“But –”

“We had a fight, but I’m going to go apologize for being a dick right after I track him down, right after this, okay?” Len says. “I needed to find something adequate as an apology gift first.”

“Oh,” Barry says, nodding. They’d gotten into squabbles around Barry before; the larger the squabble, the larger the apology gift. This one must have been a whopper. “I get it. So you’re giving _him_ the diamond?”

“…yeah, the diamond,” Len says. “Plus something else I came across that I think he’ll really like.”

There’s a pounding on the door. “Barry Allen, you open this door _this instant_!”

“Only thirty two minutes,” Len says with smile, even as Barry slouched and walked as slowly as he could over to the door. “She must have run a red light.”

Barry pulls open the door. “Um. Hi, Iris? Please don’t kill me?”

“Death,” Iris says, “should be the _least_ of your worries right now.”

\------

“You gave Mick a fire gun,” Barry says flatly, arms crossed in front of him.

“Technically, it’s a heat gun,” Len says from where he’s lounging on the couch.

“What, no ‘hello, Mick, nice to see you’?” Mick asks, leaning back in his chair and arching his eyebrows. 

“Hello, Mick, nice to see you,” Barry says obediently. “Did you realize you put a man in the hospital?”

“A badge, technically.”

“ _Still a man_ , Mick.”

“He’s not dead,” Mick points out. “Which is more than Len can say.”

“Ix-nay on the urder-may, Mick.”

“Are you actually five?” Barry says suspiciously. “Because I’m not comfortable sleeping with you if you are. Putting that aside, and only because you didn’t know it was me and you’ve promised never to do it again, seriously, _both of you_ , what the hell?”

“Iris has been talking about the need to get you more publicity,” Len says practically. “I thought we could – do something. Together.”

Barry tries not to tear his hair out. “And your idea of _do something_ is to make constant attempts to rob places until I show up?! Has it occurred to you that I’m not showing up because I’m _busy_?”

That is, it occurs to Barry, probably the wrong thing to say to his boyfriends which he maybe has been neglecting in favor of Flash business for a couple of weeks. The toothy grins on their faces make that clear.

“That never occurred to us,” Len drawls.

“Not once,” Mick adds in.

“What could possibly be keeping you busy?”

“It’s not like we haven’t made clear that we’re happy to step aside for anything urgent.”

“Not like we have to get your schedule from _Iris_.”

“Who says you barely talk to _her_ , either.”

“Which is rather odd, you know –”

“– given how close you were before the coma.”

“Guys –” Barry says.

“No, I think he’s spending all his time with his new friends,” Len says to Mick.

“That can’t be right,” Mick replies. “Our Barry knows better than to let a new group of friends isolate and distance him from all of his old acquaintances.”

“Iris has Eddie –”

“She ain’t _glued_ to the guy,” Len says. “Try again.”

“I’m a superhero now,” Barry whines. “I have responsibilities.”

“No, Barry,” Len says firmly. “You are a _volunteer_. You start thinking of yourself as Central City’s sole line of defense, you’ll burn out faster than one of Mick’s roman candles. You’re better at handling the meta-human threats, sure, so you help with that. But the cops and the docs and, hell, even the mafia families and the crooks, we all help make sure this city runs smooth on the day to day, okay? If anyone tells you this is your job, then they ought to be paying your salary and buying your health insurance, okay?”

“You’re still _doing_ all the stuff you do, even if you do it at super speed,” Mick says. “You’re working two jobs, and your social life seems to have been restricted to STAR Labs nowadays. You don’t see us, you don’t see Iris, you only seem to see Joe on Flash business –”

“It’s not healthy,” Len says.

“Wait,” Barry says, blinking. “Is this an intervention? Did you just _rob a twenty-five million dollar painting as an intervention_?!”

They shrug.

“You have _no_ sense of proportion,” Barry says, almost admiringly. 

“They have insurance,” Mick points out with another shrug.

“Plus, homophobic assholes.”

“That, too.”

“I can’t _believe_ you guys sometimes.”

“Barry,” Len says. “We’ve only got your best interests at heart.”

“Yeah, if we didn’t, we would’ve let Iris hold the intervention,” Mick says. “And she’s still pissy about you not telling her about your superpowers until nearly a month went by – seriously, Barry?”

“I’ve already said my _mea culpas_ for that, okay? There’s a limit to how much I can grovel.” Barry sighs and throws himself onto the couch next to Len, who happily eels around him like an octopus. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. It’s just – what with the man in yellow –”

“You found him again?” Mick says, sitting up straight.

“I haven’t told you?”

“You haven’t told us _anything_.”

“I’ve been a terrible boyfriend,” Barry says, ducking his head into Len’s shoulder. “And I’m sorry. Let me tell you everything…”

“You do that,” Len says. “And we’ll tell you how we’ve planned out your television debut. Unless you’d prefer it to be a surprise.”

“Does it involve kidnapping?”

“Yes.”

“… _my_ kidnapping?”

“No.”

“ _Lenny_.”

“Listen, it’s got to be one of your STAR Lab friends, okay? We don’t want anyone figuring out how Iris is related. We’ll be very nice, I promise.”

“Give her some info on the burning man,” Barry suggests. “She’d probably come with you without the kidnapping.”

“Good plan,” Mick says. “I like burning.”

“No need to state the obvious,” Len says. “Now, Barry. Why don’t you start at the beginning…?”

\--------------------

“There are cameras in my house,” Barry says. “ _Cameras in my house_.”

“Well, _that’s_ creepy,” Len says. “Can we murder him now?”

“No!”

“Are you sure?”

“…maybe.”

“Have you gotten rid of the cameras yet?” Mick asks.

“Not yet,” Barry says, scrubbing his face. “At least we have the room where he was recording all of them, so he’s not watching anymore.”

“Huh,” Mick says. “How many angles would you say they get?”

“They’re pretty encompassing, why?” Barry asks.

“Good quality?”

“Crystal clear.”

“We’re not using Barry’s evil mentor’s media set-up to make a sex tape, Mick,” Len says. “Not unless Barry agrees, that is.”

Barry opens his mouth to object, then considers. “…it is some pretty good quality recording,” he says slowly. “Might actually be from the future, it’s so good quality. Not sure how I feel about having a sex tape with my face on it, though.”

“We could do it in costume,” Mick offers.

Barry and Len both stop what they’re doing and look at him.

“C’mon, you know you both want to,” Mick says lazily. “And besides, even if it got out, no one would ever believe it was really us – just similar-looking actors and good special effects.”

“We couldn’t possibly,” Barry says. He sounds unconvincing to his own ears.

“Captain Cold and Heatwave take the Flash hostage,” Mick says thoughtfully. “The Flash comes upon his two enemies and takes his revenge.”

Barry swallows. Len bites his lip a little.

“The Flash seduces one of them to the good side and they turn on the other,” Mick continues thoughtfully. “Evil metahuman with sex pollen powers…”

“That’s not a thing,” Barry protests.

“The internet disagrees with you,” Mick says.

“It really does,” Len says apologetically. “You ought to see the stuff they write about Bivolo.”

“But Bivolo’s powers spark anger and aggression and – oh. Oh. Uh. Yeah, I see the issue.”

“Thoughts?”

“Well…I guess it _would_ be a good way to say screw you to Wells’ creepy invasiveness…” 

“Think of it as trauma recovery,” Mick says encouragingly. “My shrink says it's all about facing your issues. As your boyfriends, it’s our responsibility to help you face them. At length. In multiple positions.”

“…ask me again next time Joe’s out of town.”

\---------------------

"We need to talk," Iris announces as she flounces into the room.

"How do you keep finding these places?" Mick asks.

"I know, like, ten of the pseudonyms Len uses to buy these properties," Iris replies. "Duh."

"Yeah, I get that, but how do you know which one we're actually _in_?"

"...I check each of them, okay?"

Mick considers this and shrugs. "Fair."

"Anyway. Not the point. The point: Barry's epic sulk fit and what we're doing about it."

"He keeps running away every time we're in the area," Len says. "I'm starting to think we might want to try to get the drop on him."

"We even managed to defeat the bad guy with minimal injuries," Mick grumbles. "Your boy got better, right?"

"Yeah, his physical therapist just certified Eddie for work again. Good on you for using the distraction to ice the bad guy. But Barry's still upset about the black hole casualties, like Ronnie and Jitters and the various ones through the city..."

"What remedy were you thinking?" Len asks.

"Well, I was wondering if an orgy is still on the table."

Len raises his eyebrows even as Mick chokes on his beer. "I thought you said your boy Eddie wasn't interested," he says coolly.

"Wait, you've discussed this?!" Mick exclaims.

"Of course I have," Len says. "Barry's only had a thing for Iris since he was eight. I thought it'd be a nice gesture."

Mick raises his eyebrows.

"This was before the coma," Len admits. "And briefly after."

"I didn't want to do anything until I had someone serious," Iris explains. "Barry would have read too much into it - I love him, but not really in a marriage-with-kids sort of way, you know?"

"Yeah, he'd overthink it and crush his heart no matter how clear you were about it up front," Mick agrees, shaking his head fondly. “Fucking moron.”

"Well, _anyway_ , Eddie's tentatively reevaluated his view on sleeping with criminals after you helped out so much against Reverse Flash, especially since you saved his life after he decided to sacrifice himself to stop Eobard," Iris says briskly. "Not as a regular thing, of course, but as a special treat for me. So now that it's back on the table -"

"Barry _does_ have those insane recovery times," Len says helpfully.

"You're thinking of ambushing him by offering an orgy?" Mick asks. "That's...just stupid enough to work."

"You said that about the de Beers cargo ship heist," Len reminds his partner.

"...that did work out well."

"I still want all of your weird heist stories," Iris says, temporarily derailed. "But seriously - if we offer, do you think he'll be sufficiently shocked to accept?"

"And then we can do the intervention about his brooding?"

"Exactly!"

"But we do also get the orgy, right?"

"Absolutely. I’m thinking we get him to the bed, maybe tie him up a bit, _then_ we spring the intervention. If he finishes the whole thing without phasing out of the rope and running away, he gets to have the orgy."

"That’s absolutely awful and utterly unconscionable," Mick says. "I'm in."

"Let's do this thing," Len says with a smile.


End file.
